


Outside Looking In

by wolfish_willow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Case Fic, Hurt Sam Winchester, Insecure Sam Winchester, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Sam Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 05, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfish_willow/pseuds/wolfish_willow
Summary: Based on a request in the sabriel mini prompt postRequest: Sam/Gabriel, outsider, social pariah | AU or not, Sam's always felt like he was on the outside looking in. That was until he met Gabriel.ORSam thinks Gabriel has been spending time with him to get on Dean's good side.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26
Collections: Good Intentions: Abandoned and Unfinished WIPs





	Outside Looking In

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is a fic I started 8 years ago, maybe? Maybe even a little longer. I never posted it because I never got around to finishing it. But with the WIP Fest going on, I'm hoping I'll finally be able to let this go. 
> 
> If you do give it a read, I hope you enjoy what's there. Feel free to ask questions about where it was going or really anything about it. 
> 
> Also, there may still be a few words in [brackets] because there were some words (town names, etc) that I never thought up.

Request: Sam/Gabriel, outsider, social pariah

AU or not, Sam's always felt like he was on the outside looking in. That was until he met Gabriel.

-

The house would have been nice back in its day. Now, though, there are boards hanging off of faded blue walls. The gutter on one side is broken into two pieces that will do nothing to protect it from any rain. Some of the second story windows are still intact, but the ones at the ground floor are broken. Like teeth, jagged shards menacingly framing decrepit panes; they make it seem like the house is snarling at outsiders. Appropriate, Sam thinks, if it turns out to be the nest of a pack of vampires they've been tracking.

Dean squints up at the old building. Sizing it up, Sam is sure. They don't know exactly how many vampires are in this pack. Using a house this big as their sleeping grounds might mean that there are a lot more of them than they thought, or that they like the space. It makes taking care of them right now out of the question.

They share a look for a moment, both shaking their heads before Sam lowers his eyes. Dean jerks his head back the way they came and Sam nods. He follows after his brother, keeping up with his quick, quiet pace. Neither of them speaks until the Impala comes back into view.

"So how do we want to work this?"

Sam follows Dean's lead, leaning over the top of the car. He clasps his hands together and shakes his head.

"We need to find out how many of them are there before we go running in."

"I got that much, dude."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Best bet would probably be someone staying behind. Keep an eye on the place and a headcount whenever they come out to feed."

Eyebrows rising, Dean lifts his chin, head tilting to the side. "Sounds like a plan to me. You've got your phone, call me when you've got a number."

"At least give me the machete," Sam says with a sigh, holding an open hand out over the car. Dean opens his mouth to argue but Sam cuts him off with a look. "We could always go with rock, paper, scissors instead."

Heaving a sigh, Dean reluctantly hands over the machete. Sam chuckles and pushes himself off of the Impala with a shove. He's got to find a safe place to keep an eye out on the house.

*

Sam wraps his coat around himself tighter and rubs his hands together. The closer it gets to sunset, the colder it gets. He's thankful he thought to bring the jacket with him at all.

He wishes he had taken the time to grab his laptop from the backseat. He knows that it was the best for one of them to stay behind and keep an eye on the place. But so far he hasn’t seen so much as a shadow creeping behind one of those broken windows. The only thing on his mind when he agreed to stay behind was finding out how many vampires they have to gank. They’ve been tracking them for weeks. Following trails of exsanguinated bodies through three different towns and all he wanted to do was finish this hunt before the body count got any higher.

He hadn’t thought about how he would pass the time.

As tempted as he is to pull out solitaire on his phone, it drains the battery. It’s not worth it, even though part of him wants to convince himself that it is. Drawing patterns in the ground with the machete is growing depressingly more interesting the longer he sits here. He’s just picked the blade back up, curling his fingers around the smooth hilt, when he hears a snap just behind him. His grip on the machete tightens until the now-familiar voice speaks up.

"Heya kiddo."

"Gabriel," he sighs, loosening his hold on the machete.

"Don’t sound too excited there," Gabriel teases, sauntering forward until he’s standing just in front of Sam.

"I’m kind of in the middle of something," he says. He raises an eyebrow when Gabriel nods, plopping down to sit cross-legged across from him.

"A little birdie told me." Gabriel winks and Sam sighs again.

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy Gabriel’s company. The angel has a lot of interesting stories and seems to love telling them. And there hasn’t been any shortage of sweets, pies and all, since he started helping them out. But he can’t help feeling bad that Gabriel got stuck on watching-Sam-duty because Dean told him to.

He isn’t sure why the angel even agrees to these things. It isn’t the first time they’ve ended up paired together. When he goes on a food run, Dean will suggest that Gabriel come along. Sometimes he’ll be going through microfiche at the Library and he’ll look up to see Gabriel suddenly there, like he has nothing better to do than watch Sam reading through something the angel could get through with barely more than a glance.

His best guess is that Gabriel thinks keeping Sam company will get him on Dean's good side. He doesn't understand _why_ the angel is going through him to get to his brother, but he won't presume to know how an angel thinks. Especially an archangel.

It almost makes sense, in a roundabout sort of way. Snapping up a pie at random times throughout the day seems easier than babysitting the boy with the demon blood, but Sam can't say he minds the attention. Even if he's a little afraid to get used to it. When Gabriel gets whatever it is he wants, gets the spot of Dean's second angel or whatever, Sam doesn't want to end up missing it.

"What do you do for fun on one of these things, anyways?"

Sam shakes his head. "It's a stake out, Gabriel."

Gabriel raises his eyebrows. "And that means you can't have _fun_?"

"Actually, that's exactly what that means."

He can't stifle his laugh at the angel's pout. His brow is furrowed and he slouches forward, elbows on his knees. Sam bites his lip to keep quiet, aware that they're only so far away from a house potentially filled with blood sucking monsters. His laugh cuts off sharply and Sam coughs to cover the abrupt stop. It's not like he's all that different than the things they're hunting. Sometimes it seems like the only place he belongs is with the things they hunt.

Being lost in thought isn't a good excuse to be caught off guard, but it's the only one Sam has for the way he jumps when Gabriel's hand is suddenly in his face. A long finger pokes the tip of his nose, followed by a quiet chuckle coming from across him. He wrinkles his nose and leans away, eyes narrowing at the smile on Gabriel's face. The sight of it lodges his scolding somewhere in his throat and throws him for a loop. He's seen the angel smirking, they all have. He even remembers his serious-face, back when Dean had trapped him in a ring of holy fire. But he's never seen a real smile from him before. Seeing it now, Sam is sure he would have remembered. Something about it brightens the angel's face, makes something in Sam's stomach flip.

"What's going on in that melon of yours?"

It's hard not to shake his head to clear it, but Sam manages. Shrugging, he tears his eyes away from Gabriel's smile back to the house. They aren't here to joke around. Sam is here to keep an eye on the house. And Gabriel is here to keep an eye on Sam.

"Nothing."

There's some shuffling, then the heat of Gabriel's body is lined against Sam's side. He has the sudden intense urge to lean into Gabriel's side, to let the angel hold him up for just a moment. He knows better, though. His past is riddled with mistakes to the contrary, but Sam isn't actually stupid.

"Humans rarely have nothing on their mind. There's always something bouncing around in there."

Sam shrugs again, keeping his eyes on the house. Something in him relaxes, just barely, at that. He's become so used to hearing 'freak' and 'abomination', that sometimes he forgets - doubts - that there's some human in him.

"Nothing important, then."

Gabriel shoves his shoulder, just enough that he wobbles. It's so unexpected that he reacts without thinking about it, shoving back and looking over at the angel. He's smiling again, smaller and not nearly as brilliant as the last one, but just as striking.

"You give yourself too little credit."

He doesn't know what to say to that and settles for turning back to watch the house. This time he does lean over, just a little, until their arms brush.

They sit together in silence. It's the longest they've ever sat together without talking, the longest he's ever known the angel to be quiet. The sun drops lower, sky darkening above them, but Sam doesn't get any colder.

"Thanks," Sam finally says just as the sun is setting.

Gabriel leans further into his side. He turns his head to look up at Sam and Sam meets his eyes. 

"You're welcome," he says, but it sounds more like, "You've got nothing to thank me for."

*

"You're sure?"

"Dude, yes. Pretty sure Famine didn't mess with my ability to count."

Messed with him in other ways, sure. Brought back cravings he wishes he could forget. Made him even more of a burden than he'd already become. But his Sesame Street math - one, two, three vampires, mah-ah-ah - has remained intact.

Something shifts in the corner of his eye and Sam turns to see Gabriel standing there, shrugging his shoulders back. It's unusual, seeing the Archangel look almost uncomfortable. He's facing Dean and it's reminiscent of the year before, Castiel flying in and staring hard at Dean. He isn't surprised to find his brother staring right back. A whole conversation with one look. Dean is probably trying to double check that Sam's information is correct without drawing attention to the fact that he can't trust his little brother's word anymore. Sam doesn't really blame him.

A moment later Dean clears his throat and nods.

"Fine. So ten vampires. Five each ain't bad."

"In what reality?"

The words are on the tip of Sam's tongue, but Gabriel beats him to it. There's something like concern in the angel's voice, not unlike when Castiel is worried about Dean and unsure how to express it to his friend. 

"We've dealt with vampires before," Sam says, drawing their attention back to him. He understands the angel's worry. The only one Dean's got backing him up is _Sam_. But Sam doesn't hear the angel volunteering to go in with them. "And this isn't the first time we've gone into something outnumbered. Don't worry, I'll have Dean's back."

Lines crinkle Gabriel's forehead, eyebrows scrunched together. Sam looks away and focuses on the hideous wallpaper just behind Dean. It's a struggle to keep from crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

He sees Gabriel opening his mouth out of the corner of his eye, but Dean cuts in.

"He's right, Gabe. We've done this before. Hell, we even managed to survive it a majority of the time."

Sam chuckles and it's only a little forced. He reaches down and grabs one of the freshly sharpened blades from the table. His brother does the same, tucking a gun in his jacket just in case.

"Too bad we don't still have the colt. Came in handy for Dad," Sam sighs, picking up his own gun.

There's a quick snap and the weight of the gun in his palm changes, just barely. The hilt is curved differently. He spares a quick glance at Gabriel, who's smirking expectantly at him and Sam's almost afraid to look down. Dean makes a strangled noise.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Sure is, Dean-o."

Sam looks down, fingers curling tighter around the hilt of a gun he never thought he would see again. His jaw drops and he looks to his brother - who looks as shocked as Sam feels - then Gabriel, then the gun.

"Brother dearest didn't bother picking it up. And don't worry about the ammo."

Curiosity gets the better of Sam and he turns to Gabriel to see him smirking. The angel circles a hand around his face. "Archangel."

It startles a laugh out of him and Sam shakes his head. He looks down at the gun again, putting it carefully into his jacket.

"Thanks," he says, quietly. It's the second time in a matter of hours that Gabriel has earned that word from him and Sam isn't quite sure how he feels about that yet. Gabriel's eyes almost seem to glitter, smirk melting into the third smile Sam's seen from him in one day. His stomach flips again and he's grateful that Dean speaks, breaking whatever strange tension was there.

"Five each with the Colt. I like those odds."

"Yeah." Sam tears his eyes from Gabriel. There's an almost-smile on Dean's face, a glimmer of that old enthusiasm his brother used to have for the hunt. It loosens some of the worry that Sam tries not to think about, that Dean is close to giving in; that if the job he used to love so much isn't enough to keep him going, will Sam have any chance at it?

He spares one last glance at Gabriel over his shoulder on the way out and feels a smile stretching across his lips. Maybe things are starting to look up.

*

The sound of running water and the scent of something sweet greet Sam as he wakes up. Peeking one eye open, he's unsurprised to find Dean's bed empty. He is surprised, however, to see Gabriel sitting at the table just on the other side of Dean's bed. He blinks, grit sticking his eyelashes together and making it that much more tempting to go back to sleep. But Gabriel is right there, waiting for Dean and it's only fair that Sam gets up to keep the angel company this time around. It might not be what Gabriel was going for, but he figures he's better than nothing. Hopes he is.

When he opens his eyes again, Gabriel is still sitting at the table, but now he's watching Sam. He thinks he should feel vulnerable like this, without Dean in his bed between them. But no matter how hard he's been trying not to, Sam can feel himself becoming attached to this angel with caramel eyes.

His back pops when he pushes himself up and he sighs, sore muscles relaxing some. Flipping around, Sam rubs his knuckles over his eyes to try and get rid of some of the grit while he waits for a turn in the bathroom.

"Morning, Sammy."

The voice is all wrong and it takes Sam's sleep-fuzzy mind a full second to realize that was Gabriel's voice and not his brother's. Water is still running in the bathroom; when he looks up, it's to find Gabriel still looking right at Sam. That smile is back on his face, broader like the first he'd given Sam the day before.

"Morning," he says slowly. He feels like he's missing something. There is no reason for the angel to be sitting there smiling at _Sam_. "Um, Dean's... in the shower. If you wanted to come back when he's finished." It sounds more like a question than he means for it to.

Gabriel's smile falters; Sam wouldn't have even noticed except that he can't seem to tear his eyes away from it. He bites his lip, unsure how he's already managed to mess this up. But it only lasts a second and the angel's smiling again, lifting his hand to snap his fingers.

In the split second that the angel is gone, Sam thinks Gabriel decided to do what he said. The last thing Sam expects is for the bed to dip beside him. He turns to look at Gabriel and it's a shock when the angel lifts one of his hands, rubs the pad of his thumb over the lines where Sam's brow is crinkled in confusion, smoothing them out. His breath catches in his throat and this isn't helping ease his confusion in the least. It feels good, though. Better than it should. Sam hadn't realized how long it's been since anyone really touched him, more than a quick check for injuries or the brief poke to the tip of his nose that the angel seemed obsessed with giving him.

Some of the tension that had built up in his shoulders eases. He releases a shaky breath. The corner of his lips curls into a returning smile and he opens his mouth to say something - _Thank you,_ again, maybe - when Dean comes out of the bathroom, a billow of steam following close behind.

Sam starts at the sudden reminder that Dean is in the motel room, that Gabriel is probably here for his brother and just has no concept of personal space like Castiel. He pulls away so fast that he leaves Gabriel's hand hanging in the air where his head had been. The angel squints at the now-empty space, slowly bringing his hand back down. When Sam glances over at his brother, Dean is staring at them. He's grinning, bright and happy and like nothing Sam has seen on Dean's face in years. It makes him look more like the man he'd been before Hell; fun loving and full of life.

In the next minute that grin disappears, twisting abruptly into Dean's confused pout - another look he hasn't seen on Dean's face in a long time. He follows the line of his brother's gaze to find Gabriel glaring across the room at him. Upset at how long Dean made him wait, maybe.

He looks between them for a second; watches Dean shrug his shoulders as close to apologetic as his brother gets. The angel's glare softens and Sam feels like he's invading some private moment between them. As quickly - and quietly - as he can move, Sam slips away from Gabriel and off the bed. It isn't fast enough, though, and he can feel their eyes on him, the way he knows when he's being watched on a hunt. It's unsettling.

"I'm just gonna..." he says, jerking his thumb towards the bathroom door.

Dean raises an eyebrow.

\--"What about breakfast?"

\--"But I brought breakfast."

Eyes widening at the clashing voices, Sam starts for the bathroom with a longer stride. He glances over his shoulder, eyes meeting Gabriel's for an awkward moment. "I'm not really that hungry," he says before finally slipping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

The room is still warm and muggy. Sam leans back against the door and closes his eyes, head falling against it with a soft _thud_. The muffled sound of voices come through, heated but quiet. Still, Sam can distinguish his brother's voice from Gabriel's, even though he can't make out what they're saying. A couple of the angel's words do drift into the small bathroom, a frustrated, _"Your brother,"_ that has him pushing off of the door and further into the room. 

He's fairly sure that he doesn't want to hear whatever is being said outside that door and he _knows_ that he doesn't want to walk back out there anytime soon. Sam stares at his blurred reflection in the foggy mirror for a couple of seconds before reaching out to turn one of the knobs in the bath. While he's trapped in here, taking a shower sounds like a good idea to him.

*

When Sam comes out of the bathroom, he's cleaner but no less confused. The talking he'd heard while he was drying off stops when he opens the door. He peeks just outside, wrapping his towel tight around his waist. Gabriel is standing with his back to the room, facing the window outside. Dean is perpendicular to him, facing the angel's profile. His brother shoots him a quick look, dangerously close to his guilty face and Sam knows they've been talking about him. Still unsure about what he's done, Sam wants nothing more than to be able to leave them to it right now. Go out for a walk and give the two of them some space to finish their conversation. But in his haste to escape the awkwardness earlier, he hadn't thought to bring his clothes into the bathroom with him.

His grip on the towel tightens until his knuckles ache. Even with Gabriel facing the other way, Sam is uncomfortable. His stomach is in knots and there's something nerve racking about the possibility of the angel seeing him without any kind of barrier, no matter how ineffectual. A part of him is afraid of what Gabriel might _see_ even though intellectually he knows that a few layers of flannel and denim aren't nearly enough to cover him from an archangel's sight.

The _zip_ of his duffel draws their attention to him, but Sam doesn't lift his head. Instead he busies himself digging through his bag for some clean clothes. A soft snap sounds from across the room and Sam finally looks up. The space where Gabriel had been standing is empty, leaving his brother to scrub a hand down his face roughly. 

The mood is more subdued through the day and into the next morning. On the drive out of town Dean plays his music just loud enough to halt any attempts at conversation. Sam bites his lip against the, "I'm sorry," that wants to burst out of him for whatever he did to make things tense between them and between Dean and Gabriel. 

His brother never had many friends growing up. People have always been drawn to his big brother, even back when they'd been in school. But they moved around so much and Dean just didn't seem to crave friendships the way Sam had back then.

Now, though. Now he's got a best friend in Castiel, and Gabriel has been doing so much to earn a second spot as Dean's friend. They even seemed to be getting along better than ever. And Sam hates feeling like he's managed to screw another good thing up for Dean before it even got started.

But he's said sorry so many times that it must have lost its meaning by now. Actions speak louder than words, anyway. Especially with Dean. There's got to be something Sam can do to make things better.

He just needs to think of what that thing is.

*

It's almost a relief when he wakes up the next morning and sees Castiel in front of the window. He meets the angel's eyes and gives him a brief smile, slipping out of bed quietly because Dean is still asleep. The light coming through the windows is the light tinted blue of early morning. Sam grabs some clothes out of his duffel and slips into the bathroom, thankful for a normal morning after the weirdness of the past two days.

He's able to enjoy the surprisingly hot water in the shower more this time. The only thing running through his head as he shampoos his hair is how he can start making things right with Dean and Gabriel, rather than on what they were saying just outside the door. Unfortunately the only things he can come up with are the old stand-bys; volunteering for their food and supply runs. It's not much, not nearly what he was hoping to think of, but it's better than nothing.

Castiel is still in the room, a silent and watchful guard over Dean, when Sam comes out. Grabbing his wallet, Sam shoots the angel another small smile on his way out. He's more surprised than he probably should be when he gets one back and he almost stumbles, catching himself before he can lose his footing. Easing the door open as silently as he can, Sam shoves his wallet into his jeans and heads out.

*

Four cups of coffee are threatening to plummet to their concrete doom when Gabriel suddenly appears at his side. There is no snap to announce his presence, just two hands reaching out to grab the drink holder from him. Sam lets out a relieved sigh, grinning down at Gabriel. Bright eyes smile back at him, light hitting them so they look almost golden and Sam swallows, grip on the bags of food in his hand tightening.

"Thanks," he breathes, turning away from Gabriel. His grin eases off and he can feel heat blooming in his cheeks. Hopefully not hot enough to be obvious, but it's more than a little embarrassing to get caught in one of his more klutzy moments Especially when he isn't sure what he'd done to upset the angel the morning before. 

He starts walking again. Gabriel stays at his side, keeping up as though Sam isn't a good head taller than him.

"It's what I'm here for," Gabriel says, nudging Sam's arm with his elbow. Sam glances at him curiously, one eyebrow raised.

"To help me carry coffee?"

Gabriel shoots him a smirk. When he winks, Sam has to catch himself from stumbling for the second time that morning. He smiles back a little uncertainly. Interacting with Gabriel almost always leaves him feeling like he's just ridden a roller coaster; all wobbly legs and dizzy, but almost always with a smile on his face.

"What's with all the coffee anyway? Last time I checked, thank Dad, there are only two of you chuckleheads."

"Oh, um." Sam struggles to come up with something less embarrassing than his actual reason because now that he's faced with the archangel right there, it seems so stupid. Trying to make up to someone, who can snap up anything they want, with coffee? He doesn't know what he was thinking.

He faces away from Gabriel again, focusing on the ground in front of him. He feels ridiculous enough, he doesn't want to add tripping over his own feet to the list of things he's done to embarrass himself today.

"Just... because," he finishes lamely with a slow shrug.

They're quiet for the rest of the walk back to the motel. Sam is grateful that Gabriel doesn't offer to fly them back to the room. He wouldn't be able to say no, but he needs this time to clear his head as well as he can with the angel at his side.

*

Dean is up when they get back to the room, but only just. He's squinting a sleepy glare at Castiel who is right where he'd been when Sam left.

"Dude, it's creepy when you do that."

Castiel tilts his head to the side. Neither of them seem to notice when Gabriel shuts the door. The archangel tugs at the sleeve of Sam's jacket, dragging him further into the room. Sam doesn't understand why until he realizes the new angle is perfect for watching their brothers.

"I apologize," Castiel says gruffly, but the way his brow is turned down shows that he isn't sure what he's apologizing for.

"Don't apologize." Dean rubs at his forehead, looking tired and frustrated. "Just, could you maybe stop? It freaks me out when you're just standing there... watching me."

The angel nods, but Sam is sure that if Castiel sticks around a while he'll find him in exactly the same spot tomorrow morning. The thought has always eased something in his chest, knowing that someone is keeping an eye on his brother while he can't. He understands why Dean is weirded out by it, but he thinks there must be some part of his brother that is just as, if not more, comforted by it as him. He knows he would feel comforted, being watched over by an angel while he slept, even as he knows how impossible that is.

It's quiet for a minute before they finally seem to notice that the room has two more people in it. Dean looks at Sam's hands, frowning until his eyes find the drink carrier Gabriel is still holding. He's up in a flash and grabs one of the cups - thankfully not the one Sam originally ordered for Gabriel. He would never hear the end of it with how much sugar is in the specially marked one in the corner.

"What's with all the coffee, Sammy?" Dean asks, snagging one of the bags out of Sam's hands and putting it on the table. It isn't until he's swallowed a mouthful of the coffee that he realizes what's sitting in the styrofoam container is not something he would eat.

His brother turns back to him, opening his mouth to gripe, Sam is sure. But he's glad that it seems to have distracted Dean from his original question. Gabriel chuckles beside him when Sam holds up the other container, the one with Dean's scrambled eggs and greasy bacon strips.

"This what you were looking for?"

Dean grabs the food with a huff and sits down at the table, digging in without preamble. Sam shakes his head, meeting Gabriel's eyes and, for a surprising moment, sharing a small exasperated smile.

The chair creaks a little under Sam's weight when he takes a seat across from his brother. It's still not as bad as some of the chairs they've seen in all the motels they stay in. A quiet snap sounds next to him, though, and the creaking ceases, even when Sam scoots closer to the table. His brother laughs under his breath and Sam looks back and forth between Dean and Gabriel; being with both of them in the same room is beginning to feel a little like attending a Wimbledon match. Neither of their faces give much away, though Dean seems amused by something. He's missing something, Sam knows it and he's more than a little afraid that they've finally bonded enough to team up and prank him.

Gabriel is still holding the drink carrier. Sam turns a little to grab his cup, avoiding eye contact with the archangel as well as he can. He slides his food, an omelette full to the brim with whatever vegetables the diner had, closer and stabs his fork into the eggs a little harder than necessary. It's starting to feel so much like the morning before. He doesn't mind being out of the loop. It bothered him growing up, and kept bothering him all the way up until last year. But since letting Ruby push him to break the Devil free - especially since learning he's supposed to be Lucifer's true vessel - Sam understands if his brother needs to keep some things from him. He didn't expect the punched-in-the-gut feeling he's got now, though, at the thought that Gabriel is keeping him in the dark about something, as well.

Subtly, Sam steals a look at Gabriel, who is looking at the remaining two cups of coffee contemplatively. The angel grabs the one with the red _"G"_ marked on it and Sam flushes, determined to pour all of his attention into his food. The omelette doesn't taste like much and he swallows it with a grimace. He swallows again, eyes boring holes in the table when he hears Gabriel taking a sip of the overly sweet beverage. His lips twitch down, cheeks heating up again and this time he knows the red is noticeable when Gabriel laughs. He never should have ordered that stupid drink.

"You bought Gabriel coffee?"

Dean's voice is practically booming in the quiet of the room. Shoulders hunching down, Sam wishes he could just disappear. The grin is audible in Dean's voice, probably wide and goofy and any other time Sam would appreciate the ribbing in it because it's something his brother used to do _before_. This time, though, Sam wants to hide away, crawl back under the covers and start the day over again somehow.

Still, Sam needs to see that look on his brother's face. It isn't often that he gets to see Dean happy about little things recently, not that he blames him.

He catches sight of Dean's smile and the familiarity of it that he's missed makes it worth feeling like an idiot, if only for a moment. But it's gone a second later when Dean glances somewhere over Sam's shoulder - right where Gabriel was standing the last time he looked. The last thing Sam wants to do is look at Gabriel right now. It's almost eerily like the morning before, the look on Dean's face right after Gabriel was glaring at him.

There's a shifting movement and Sam finds himself looking over Dean's shoulder instead. Castiel's head is tilted, eyes darting between their brothers and he looks just as confused as Sam felt yesterday. Biting his lip, Sam figures he can't look any more idiotic.

"The other one is for Cas," he sighs, hunching further over his food. He catches sight of the angel's frown before he puts all of his attention back on the table.

"I do not require - " comes the expected gravelly response and Sam cuts him off.

"Yeah, but I just thought I'd... keep it even."

The room gets quiet again, just the sound of Dean's chewing and Gabriel still sipping at his drink like he's actually enjoying it. His omelette doesn't look nearly as appetizing as it had in the diner but he forces himself to finish it, trying to block everything out for a while.

"Thanks, Sammy."

The words are as much of a shock as the hand, warm as his side had been while waiting out for vampires, curls over his shoulder, fingertips just brushing the nape of his neck. Some of the red staining his cheeks drains away and Sam bites his lip. He takes a chance, glancing back at the angel over his shoulder.

There's that smile again, small and genuine and not a hint of pity marring his features or hiding behind his eyes. Sam tells himself that this is the Trickster and an archangel and that he can easily hide emotions he doesn't want to show but there isn't even a small part whispering in the back of his mind that believes that's what Gabriel is doing. He's seen what Gabriel looks like when he's pulling a trick, when he's putting on an act. Smiling back, he realizes he hasn't seen one of those looks from Gabriel in all the times the angel has come to keep him company; not once when Dean sent them to get food together or when he showed up in the Library or the room when Dean was nowhere to be found.

Something suspiciously like hope, and maybe a little happiness, warms his chest and he relaxes in his seat. It's the first time he's gotten Gabriel to thank _him_ for something instead of the other way around and Sam lets himself enjoy it.

*

The engine rumbles, familiar and soothing as they drive out of town that afternoon. Dean's music is playing in the background; it isn't nearly as loud as it had been the day before. He can see his brother tapping the steering wheel to the beat from the corner of his eye and it just adds to the surrealism of his day so far. The whole scene reminds him of years ago...what feels like a lifetime ago. Back when they were just two brothers, no Hell and Heaven between them. Instead of putting him on edge the way his brain tells him it should, he finds himself relaxing; letting himself enjoy it the way he'd let himself enjoy hearing Gabriel thank him earlier, the hand on his shoulder sending a pleasant warmth down his spine.

He's flying high with the realization that Gabriel is his friend. He hasn't had a friend in... longer than he cares to think about. It's something he'd accepted as his due for the things he's done and the choices he's made. But there is no denying the excited thrill that runs through him, anticipatory like waiting in line for a roller coaster, at the thought. It's even easy to ignore that little voice in the back of his head, telling him that this is a trick or he's missed something, or look at what happened the last time he befriended someone. But this is nothing like Ruby; Dean has trusted the Archangel for months now, has them on supply runs, just the two of them. His brother has never had a problem pointing out exactly when Sam is making a stupid decision. It's enough, gives him hope that somehow things are a little better than they'd been before Gabriel joined up with Team Free Will.

*

"What do you think? Witches?"

Sam shakes his head. "I don't know, Dean. It almost reminds me of [that town] a few years ago. But it doesn't add up. There's no sulfur at any of the houses and it's nothing like Sin City..."

"No hex bags, either," Dean grumbles, rubbing a hand over his face.

Sighing, Sam focuses on his laptop. He twirls a pen between the fingers of his right hand. Interviews with all the victim's loved ones resulted in five similar stories of the person becoming increasingly agitated and nervous. But Sam's high from the morning before has dulled back down and he finds himself unsure that Dean will take his findings seriously without one of the angels there to confirm everything.

Neither of the angels are with them today and Sam doesn't know whether they will show up anytime soon. He bites his lip, pen still twirling easily in his hand. Even if Dean doesn't trust his findings, Sam has a website right here to back him up.

"The symptoms leading up to the suicides were the same with all the victims," he starts, glancing from his laptop to his brother. Dean looks up from where he'd been flipping through Dad's journal, eyebrow raised. "They were all edgy, nervous. They got increasingly shaky and spaced out, some were even losing coordination, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Sounds like they were suffering from sleep deprivation."

"What kind of nasty causes sleep deprivation? Besides the Boogeyman, obviously."

"The Boogeyman doesn't cause sleeplessness, and he doesn't exist."

When Dean doesn't immediately roll his eyes, Sam pushes on. "I'm not sure exactly what it is that's causing it, but I've double checked all of the symptoms. It makes the most sense. At least now we can focus on things that affect sleep."

The suggestion sounds more questioning than he means it to, but Dean still seems to take it as the statement it was meant to be. He isn't entirely sure whether he should be happy Dean didn't notice, or upset that _before_ his brother would have done anything he could to find out what caused it. Really, Sam supposes as Dean starts up his own laptop to look into anything that might cause sleeplessness, he should just be happy that Dean trusts him enough to take his word for it.

Having his brother listen to him without Gabriel or Castiel there to confirm his findings brings a warm feeling to his chest that he fervently hopes doesn't fade the way his high from the other morning had.

*

Three days fly by in a whirl of research and interviews, but they're still no closer to finding whatever it is that's been causing people's deaths. Dean's out grabbing lunch, having left Sam behind with a promise to pick up some of that rabbit food he likes. It was enough to put a smile on Sam's face for a few minutes after his brother left, until a sudden yawn breaks out.

Sam doesn't quite know what to do when he realizes just how tired he's feeling; to the point of the world becoming suddenly off balance. His knuckles whiten as he grips the edge of the table harder at the thought. Normally it wouldn't bother him at all. He's no stranger to nightmares keeping him up until he resembles the worst kind of insomniac, surviving on what feels like gallons of caffeine. They'd gotten worse after he let Lucifer out of his cage; the Devil acting as though he had nothing better to do than to torment Sam in his sleep with images of loved ones and promises he can't possibly keep. Since Famine, though, when he'd expected them to come more frequently, they'd actually tapered off. The occasional one slipped in, normal nightmares he remembers from before he had the King of Hell stopping in for nightly visits. Even with those few nightmares, though, he's mostly been able to sleep again in a way he can't really remember sleeping since before he was eight and found out about the family business.

The victims in this town have all had symptoms that started out probably the same way as he's feeling now. None of their loved ones have reported them actually _missing_ sleep, but all of the victims displayed signs of sleep deprivation. Sam knows that he's been sleeping just fine, without even a glimpse of the horrors his subconscious creates for him, but he feels like he's been up the last few nights without any rest. It's the first time in months - since Famine he thinks - that he's managed to fall victim to whatever the hell they're hunting and he has no idea how he's going to tell Dean without having to see that worried-disappointed look combo his brother gets on his face whenever Sam winds up in another mess. It's a hundred times worse than all the disappointed looks his father used to give him because Dean's opinion has always mattered that much more than anyone else's. They've finally been starting to get along again. Sam doesn't know what he'll do when Dean realizes he's just as much of a mess - a trouble magnet - as he's always been.

He rubs his eyes wearily, anxiously bouncing his leg up and down beneath the motel table. Biting his lip, he thinks bitterly that this time around he doesn't even get the excuse of angels and demons playing a cruel game of tug-of-war between them. 

There's no keeping this from Dean, either. He's learned the hard way what keeping secrets can cause. After all the times he's thought he was right, doing the right thing, only to have it blow up and shoved in his face repeatedly just how wrong he truly was, he's hesitant to even think about keeping this to himself. Even if it turns out that he's wrong, that he's just been having a few nights of restless sleep - and he can't say he'd be surprised at it anymore - Sam refuses to give his brother a reason to think he's falling back into keeping secrets again. He isn't willing to risk their tentative climb back to being brothers. Making Dean see he's still his little brother and not just the ex-demon blood junkie _burden_ that he's become is more important to him than just about anything.

Now it's just a matter of figuring out how to tell Dean that he's managed to attract trouble again. He's almost tempted to go to Gabriel first and see what the angel can do to help him out. But he's aware of how new their friendship is (even as he tries to squash down the warm feeling swelling in his chest when he remembers the angel's fingers on his forehead and warm hand on his shoulder), that he's only just realized that Gabriel might even see him that way, and doesn't want to put any unnecessary strain on Gabriel's shoulders. The only reason he's even willing to burden Dean with this is that he doesn't want to cause more problems between them, or be the cause of this whole hunt going pear shaped on them at the last possible moment.

He feels like he's had barely any time to wrap his mind around it when Dean comes into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Anything new?" he asks, looking hopeful and almost confident in Sam's ability to have found something out while he was getting food. It causes his chest to clench unpleasantly; he's found something out all right, it's just something he wishes he could ignore.

His eyes feel gritty and Sam blinks a little sluggishly, rubbing at them in agitation. Dean looks up at the suddenly heavy silence in the room and it takes almost everything Sam has to keep from slouching at the suspicion he's sure must be written all over his brother's face.

"Sam?" Dean says slowly, body tense. It hurts that Sam managed to cause his brother to lose that bit of ease he'd apparently been feeling before he came into the room.

"I think..." Sam starts haltingly, rubbing the back of his hand [neck] absently. "I think that whatever is doing this... might have locked on to me."

There's nothing but silence for a moment, stretching out for what feels like an agonizing eternity before Dean sits down. The rustle of clothes and the plastic bags containing their lunch draws Sam's attention up from where he'd been watching his finger slide back and forth on the tabletop. 

"Are you okay?"

Sam blinks but makes an effort not to furrow his brow - though he's not sure how successful he is. Dean's voice is gruff but not accusatory. Not deep like it gets when he's holding something nasty back. It almost brings a smile to Sam's face. That's the voice of his big brother, the one who is always willing and ready to rip someone's lungs out for even looking at his little brother wrong. It's that, more than anything, that allows him to ease out of his slouch and answer more evenly than he'd thought he could.

"I'm tired. Like, really tired. My eyes feel dry and gritty like I've kept them open too long and I noticed this morning that I got dizzy when I stood up. I thought I'd just gotten up too fast or something, you know? Head rush. Only, I feel like I haven't slept in days when I _know_ I have and I swear I wasn't trying to keep anything hidden, I just didn't put everything together until after you left to get the food - "

"Slow down," Dean cuts in, hand slicing through the air. "Calm down, Sammy. It's okay. I know you weren't keeping anything from me." 

A familiar calloused hand covers the fingers Sam hadn't realized he's been tapping on the table, stilling them. He can't help the smile that forms at the gesture and the nickname he used to act like he hated but actually hates living without. 

"We've still got no idea what could be doing this?"

Sam shakes his head ruefully, looking up from their hands to his brother's determined face. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed what little is here! <3


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